“Mercy for a traitor who cursed my family?” I tried to make the words heartfelt.
“You must do what you think is right. I do not know much about your father, but I have spoken with delegates who do. He is a hard man, and not many people love him. Is he how you wish to be?”
Being loved wouldn’t make me a good ruler. But neither would being harsh. Good rule had to come from knowledge and experience. And since I didn’t have those—maybe sincerity would see me through.
You don’t have to sit on the throne for years, I reminded myself, tightening my grip on Inkar’s hand. You only have to sit until tomorrow. If Yannush kept his word.
“Sleep,” Inkar said. “I will watch over you until it is Aino’s turn.”
I lay down. I didn’t want to sleep, but exhaustion was a beast that I couldn’t escape. “Don’t leave me,” I mumbled, pulling the quilt up to my nose.
She laughed softly. “Not today.”
And I slept, dreaming of rage, of blood billowing in the water and Yannush weeping for his life. I dreamed I was surrounded by a cage of winter roses, and every time I touched them, another part of me turned to ice. I dreamed murky things until Aino shook me awake, pulling my hand free of Inkar’s. “Breakfast?” I mumbled.
“No.” Aino’s voice trembled. I blinked, and I saw the tears that swam in her eyes. “Your father died in the night.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
That’s not possible,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry,” Aino said, and I thought I saw something in her eyes—guilt? Fear?
Inkar sat up, rubbing her face with one hand. The other still held tightly to me. “What is wrong?”
“He can’t be—” I didn’t say it. Yannush had promised me a cure. Tremors ran up and down my arms, and nausea settled in my belly. I pulled away from Inkar, who looked from me to Aino.
“What are you doing?” Aino said as I reached for my robe.
“I’m going to see him.” I slid into my shoes. I didn’t wait for her or Inkar. My insides felt hollow, though my brain was awash with noise. Impossible.
“Who knows?” I asked in a rusty voice.
“A doctor reported it,” Aino whispered, tiptoeing after me as though afraid to disturb the silence of the royal wing. “I don’t know who else knows.”
I headed toward the corridor, picking up speed. I heard the clank of Viljo following me, the click of the door as Inkar shut it behind her.
The sick feeling in me doubled. What if Yannush had used Farhod to kill Father?
You promised, I thought, and I couldn’t think of anything else. He’d promised.
Sounds began to break through the haze in my brain. Rapid commands, the rumbling undercurrent of many people in one place, muttering things. I began to notice people being herded in the opposite direction. Their hair was unkempt, their robes and coats covering nightclothes. Many were running. Some looked back, faces full of fear.
A servant grabbed my arm. “Don’t gape; bring more water!”
Viljo ripped his hand off me. The servant practically threw himself to his knees when he saw what he’d done, hard enough that I heard the crack of them as they hit the ice. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, I didn’t realize—”
And I didn’t care. “What’s happening?”
He swallowed and lifted his head, staring intently at my stomach. “Fire. In the foreign minister’s room.”
I pushed into the thickening crowd, leaving Viljo, Aino, and Inkar to make their own path behind me. Despite the early hour, ministers lingered in the hallway. As I drew closer, I saw the light that flickered from Yannush’s open door.
I recognized the broad shoulders and bald head that stood in front of me, and I tapped Minister Bailli on the shoulder. “What?” When he turned and saw me, his face drained of color, and he performed a hasty bow. “Your Grace, I beg your pardon.”
“Who’s in there?” I said.
Bailli looked as though I’d asked him who was the Grand Duke of Kylma Above. “No one, Your Grace.”
I shoved past him and headed into Yannush’s rooms. Smoke seared my throat. Yannush’s room wasn’t technically on fire—his desk was. Papers had been piled on top of it, and tapestries had been torn from the walls and set alight. A puddle had formed beneath them.
Eirhan stood in the middle of the room, holding a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. Of course. His guard scoured the place, overturning every stick of furniture that hadn’t been set on fire. “Where’s Yannush?”
Eirhan removed the handkerchief from his mouth, presumably so that I could experience his full surprise that I could ask such a stupid question. “He’s killed himself.”
That didn’t make sense. I’d granted him immunity. Maybe he knew I told a lie, I thought. But how could he? Even I didn’t know the truth yet.
“He seems loyal to his coconspirators, even in his death.” Eirhan gestured to the burning documents. “We’ve gone through every unburnt scrap and rescued what we could. But we’ve found nothing.”
“I want to look anyway,” I said. It was too convenient that Eirhan arrived before I had.
Inkar appeared in the doorway and made for the inner door of Yannush’s bedroom. “I don’t recommend it, Your Grace,” Eirhan told her. “It’s not a nice sight.”
Inkar gave him a contemptuous look and pushed on the door. I followed, hesitating as I caught sight of one slippered foot dangling over the bed. Then I hardened my resolve.
Yannush lay on his bed. His sheets and quilt were one dark stain. For a moment, I pushed aside my empty panic and pressed one hand to his forehead. Pallor mortis and algor mortis had begun to set in, but I doubted Yannush had been dead more than half an hour. His skin was slick, almost slimy, and his beard was strung with droplets. I brought my fingers up to my nose and sniffed. I dabbed at the fluid with my tongue.
It was a taste I recognized too well. But had he died from the curse or from the bone-handled knife that stuck out of his chest?
Next to his bed, a wide chest of drawers bore the blackened scars of a recently extinguished fire. I heard footsteps as Eirhan joined us. Inkar’s hand slid into mine, and I gripped it as though it was the only thing keeping me standing. “He killed himself?”
“Who else would have done it?” Eirhan said, and his voice was higher than it should have been. “You were the last to see him alive, were you not?”
Suspicion pricked at me. “Other than your guard, I assume.”
Eirhan waved his hand. “The staff saw no one enter or leave around the time of his death.”
But… “Why?” I said. I’d seen the man devoid of all pride, begging for his life in front of my court. He’d been given the chance to save himself. It made no sense. And where was Farhod?
“He was obviously mad, Your Grace. His display in the Great Hall was enough to prove that.” Eirhan’s greasy face was pale, and his eyes shifted around the room. Searching for something? Avoiding me?
The guards would have told Eirhan I’d been to see Yannush. Eirhan could easily have slipped in to kill Yannush and used them as an alibi.
If Eirhan had murdered Yannush, he’d murdered my father, too. The knowledge was a hot knife in my belly. And he couldn’t have done it alone.